


Samantha Hane and the Party City of Infinite Woe

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Original Work
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Crack, F/F, Gangs, Halloween Costumes, Post-Apocalypse, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: Sam and her gang found it, a cache of pre-war goods that were perfect for acelebrationthat Sam had planned.  They used to dress up, before the world ended, dress up and get treats and play tricks.  Sam was quite fond of that idea.  Unfortunately, a rival comes to claim their find.





	Samantha Hane and the Party City of Infinite Woe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvilMuffins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/gifts).



“Hurry it up.” Sam growled as Aser went to work on the luck.  In the distance, something howled, and Geri, Kaz, and Zed all tensed up, rifles at the ready. Sam brushed away some red hair from her face, hand coming back darkened by the ash and plant juices she’d used to create black streaks.

“Just a sec, boss.” He said, not taking his eye off the lock.  Until she impatiently drove the butt of her shotgun into the glass of the door.  Aser flinched away as she continued smashing away enough jagged shards to walk through.

The place was pristine, at least as pristine a place could be nowadays.  The door and windows had been intact, and even things skittered and wanders, bags and packages of pre-War treasures sat on shelves, untouched by human hands for decades.  The rest of her scouting party filtered in, slowly, and began to examine the haul. 

A smile crossed Sam’s face as she perused the find; this recon mission was a success.  So much, they’d need to make multiple trips across the burning plains to bring it all back to their stronghold, even once they recruited the rest of the gang.  So much.  The others would bitch of course; but they would obey.  This was _her_ time, they all knew it.  Gutting Wulf two years back when he defiled her shrine was proof enough how seriously she took it.  And she was their boss, so that was proof enough about how seriously they should take it again.

Halloween.

It had been an annual tradition before the war.  Children dressed as monsters and walked down the streets, collecting tribute from terrified fellows—it was something that Sam could relate too.  The costumes were so menacing that the real monsters, the devourers and the ghasts and the lake men, they were super rare back then. 

This years tricker treat spree was going to be their most ambitious yet.  Previous years, they had made their own costumes; the wolf pelt sewn together had been menacing.  But this year, Sam wanted the real thing.  One of their contacts had told her of this old, pre-war shopping place, where these costumes could be found.

They would don the costumes and go to the farms on their territory, demanding in excess of their usual tribute, or else the tricks would happen.  Only a few burned farms and skeletons left on doorways and all of their marks chose to treat the Skels.

Aser had torn open one of the bags and was cautiously pulling a string back from a mask.  He let it go, and it snapped in his hand, startling him.  That was something old, common way of fastening things before the war.

A maniacal cackle sounded towards the end of the hallway, making everyone jump for a split second.  Zed let out a startled cry.  Sam, Geri, and Kaz all rushed to where she was standing, staring transfixed on an artificial skeleton, eyes glowing red and laughing.  Zed pulled the trigger on her handgun until the cackling stopped.

“Do that again, and I’ll tie you to a fence and let the bloodbats have you.” She snarled, before assessing the damage.  That skeleton was destroyed, and holes had been punched through the shelf.  She growled in frustration as she walked to the end of the aisle and looked down the next, seeing costumes perforated by bullets.  She headed back for the entrance, making a point to shoulder-check Zed.  She was green, probably unsuited for a job this delicate.  Hopefully she’d shape up and Sam would not need to make good on the threat.

She looked at the darkening sky and grimaced.  Going on the road at night, this road, would be suicide, even for them.  She half turned and addressed the group.  “We’ll hunker here for the night and head home at first light.  Then we’re coming back in full force.”

The rest of the gang voiced their agreement, but over them, she heard it.  Faintly, but ever louder.  Her blood began to boil and she rushed out, the rest following, forming up around their trucks.  They could see the dust clouds and hear the roar of the engines. 

But above that all, they heard the chanting.

_Here comes Santa Claws, Here comes Santa Claws, right down Santa Claws lane._

Kris was coming.  From the dust cloud, their numbers would be mostly even.  What would be best?  There was no time to move the truck or conceal it, but the cover in this parking lot was scant.  There’d be more inside the store.  But if they went inside and Kris’s gang just disabled their trucks, they’d be stuck here while their enemies could leave at their leisure to gather reinforcements, or have to walk the long road.

The bikes screeched to a halt and the rider’s dismounted.  Sam took the lead walking towards their rivals, flanked by Zed, Geri, and Aser.  Kaz was nowhere to be seen, which probably meant he’d somehow gotten on top of the roof and was waiting for an opportune shot.

Kris’s gang were dressed in drab leathers, except for the boss woman herself, who left her jacket back home, instead wearing a green sweatshirt; the color of a pre-War forest.  The sleeves were torn off, showing her dark arms and the hood was up, framing her face in shadow.  Red feathers had been affixed to the shirt.

“Sam Hane.” She said, smile visible beneath the shadow.  She had a menacing confidence that Sam envied.  Actually a lot about Kris were things that Sam would’ve appreciated in one of her gang.  But it was all infuriating in a rival.

“Kris.” Sam replied, holding up a hand, middle finger raised.  That was about as civil as she got with other gang leaders.  Kris wasn’t an enemy, per se, if only because they rarely competed for the same resources; there were other gangs between their territories. 

“Heard there were other interested parties.” Kris said.  “Is this place worth the trip?”

“Maybe.” Sam said, pumping her shotgun and making a mental note to pick up the shell she just ejected once this was resolved.  “You won’t be finding out.”

Kris laughed at that, and her gang joined in, until she stopped suddenly.  She leveled a gun at Sam’s head.  Sam had her shotgun at her hip, barrel pointing broadly at Kris’s midsection since the conversation began.  Neither blinked as their subordinates raised their own guns.  Finally, Chris took a step back and said.  “Oh?  You’re serious?  Well then, Sam…”

She dropped the gun to the ground.  “…why don’t we settle who gets the store one-on-one?”

That was fine to Sam, some bruises and cuts would be preferable to possible gunshot wounds. She held her gun off to the side, and Zed snatched it from her grip.  She ground her heel into the dirt and closed her fists.  She saw Kris tense up.

And then they were at each other’s throats.  Their gangs cheered as they threw fists and grappled and swore at one another.  Kris was bigger than her, threw a mean right hand, but Sam realized a slugging match was a dumb idea; she deflected what punches she could, took what she had to, and waited for an opening.  Barely dodging a massive overhand that would’ve probably knocked her the fuck out, Sam closed the distance and drove the point of her knee into Kris’s gut.  Winded, the biker couldn’t react fast enough as Sam hooked her leg behind Kris’s and shoved, sending her to the ground.

Kris did react fast enough to grab Sam’s shirt and pull, dragging her to the dirt, too.  They kicked and rolled and insulted each other’s parentage.  Sam tried to grab a limb and wrench it in a direction it wasn’t supposed to move, while Kris opted to try to just hold her opponent down and punch her really hard.  Neither had much success until finally Kris managed to pin Sam underneath her, holding onto her wrists.

“Give up yet?” Kris said, breathing heavily.  No, never.  Kris couldn’t hold both of Sam’s wrists _and_ punch.  It was a draw, at best, Sam assured herself as she tried to figure a way out from underneath her.  Kris leaned in really close.  “I said, do you…”

It was supposed to be a headbutt, but as they were shifting, trying to gain some advantage, the angle was wrong.  Instead of smacking her skull against Kris’s face, Sam hit her opponent’s lips with her own.  The two of them froze, looking awkwardly at one another.  Sam could feel her face turn red, had to be from embarrassment.  “Um…”

What Kris did _definitely_ wasn’t supposed to be a headbutt.  Her hands left Sam’s wrists, holding her head as she returned the kiss… that had been completely accidental on Sam’s part, letting out a groan.  Sam managed to roll Kris over, ending up on top.  She ran her hands along Kris’s forearms; probably intending to twist them, make her opponent howl.  However, she simply pulled Kris’s hands from her face, interleaving their fingers together.  A light squeeze was reciprocated.

“What do you want with the costumes, Kris?” Sam muttered.  Okay, part of her was screaming she needed to back up and remember she’d been trying to beat the lady senseless thirty seconds ago, but there were so many qualities Kris had that she liked. 

“Costumes?” Kris asked, confused.  “We’re after the trees.”

“There were trees here?” Trees?  If so, this place was even more valuable Sam thought.  She needed to win this, now.  Except when Kris broke the handhold, looped her arms around Sam’s back, and pulled her tight—not tight enough to hurt, see didn’t resist.

“Fake ones… they didn’t grow.  But they put them up once a year before the war.” Kris said in Sam’s ear.  “For holy days.  The kind that they wrote so many songs about.”

Wait? People, in a time where trees were common, would buy fake trees to put up _inside_ once a year? The Pre-War world was weird. Still, that meant that there really wasn't any point in continuing to fight over the store. Kris was genuinely confused about the costumes, and Sam still couldn't understand the trees. Fake. Trees. Inside. Why?

“Y’know, I’m thinking we’re after different things here.  There’s no reason why we can’t both walk away with what we came here for.” Sam said, then looked at the darkening sky, then back down to Kris. They had to get to shelter before nightfall  “Tomorrow.  We’ll just have to share the store tonight.”

“Um… so…” Zed tried to interrupt, only to shut up when both gang leaders raised a hand at her.

“Sharing sounds like a plan.” Kris agreed, then her hand drifted to the back of Sam’s head and pulled her down for another kiss. She still didn't quite trust Kris, but it would hardly be the first time her gang holed up with shady characters and slept with one eye open. Sam intended to keep all her attention no Kris, stay up all night. Make sure whe wasn't planning anything.

Yeah, that was the plan.


End file.
